The Royal We
by turningbackthetimeturner
Summary: Lord Voldemort has won the war or so he thinks. After all, Hermione has something to say about that.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings:** Very brief torture (observed from an outsiders point of view).  
**Contains:** General darkness and complete fic.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from this, or from any other piece of work. No copyright or any other kind of infringement is intended.  
**Author's Notes:**  
This was written for Nerys for the Tomione Spring Fic Exchange 2013 done at the GC Tomione forum. I hope you enjoy!

Big huge thank you to my betas: TwistedTale (for giving me a hand with plotting and helping me out a ton with the first chapter) and Winterblume (for dealing with my endless questions and being a real trooper in beta-ing). Any remaining mistakes and errors are entirely my own.

* * *

**The Royal We**

~.~

Chapter 1

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The snowfall was quickly turning into a blizzard, every animal already hidden away in their nooks and crannies. The falling snow was so thick it was impossible to see through and the wind howled like an animal in pain. Still they were searching, the Death Eaters. Hermione knew that, and she counted on it.

"Incendio!" Her small cave lit up with fire once more, but even then, the flames were beginning to die out, the freezing ice seeping into her hideout. She had already piled warming charm after warming charm on herself, yet Hermione already knew there wasn't much she could do against a winter storm like this one ...but, the warming charms helped, Hermione thought with a smile.

Hermione held on to her overly large robes, feeling the cold leaking into her core. One of the worst winters ever in recorded history, Hermione recited it in her mind, trying to focus on something. Her small pitiful fire sputtered and she leaned over it, not quite caring if her robes caught fire. Attempting to calm herself, Hermione's mind replayed her plan over and over. Seeing it unfold in her mind brought a small comfort to her. She could change something if all went well.

A gust of wind blew into her cave, blowing icy snow all over her spot. Hermione banished it with a huff and waved her wand to block the wind. She settled back into her thoughts with great ease, still wrapped up in her plans and musings of what everyone was doing.

Hermione felt bitter at the thought that she had to live in a cave, alone and isolated from the Order and her friends. Still, she was alive, which elevated her spirits the slightest bit. Nowadays, while she had to hide herself, the Death Eaters walked freely, like kings and queens while others cowered. All at the cost of Muggleborns and everyone else that opposed them.

Hermione couldn't be sure who still supported the Order anymore …perhaps Ginny Weasley was fighting still, in memory of Harry ...maybe Luna had survived as well. A stab of pain went through her as her thoughts drifted to Ron and Harry. The three of them had been the leaders of the Order, and gathering recruits in any way possible, they had assembled an army. She had been sure that they would win and when the final battle had come, Harry had fought Voldemort with all of his will. But, an "Avada Kedavra!" was the last of Harry Potter.

Ron and Hermione had lasted for a few meager months after that, hiding away in safe houses, while desperately trying to do anything they could to keep fighting in what already was a lost battle. They were the only remaining parts of the trio that could give the scared wizarding population a glimmer of hope, while they helped run the Order with the other members. Kingsley assisted, contacting the remaining members of the Order and managing to significantly help with getting them underground. Their plans were almost complete until the Death Eaters came literally knocking on their door. Unfortunately for her, it was Hermione who answered the door. She was met with a blast which she could barely dodge. Within a matter of seconds the site descended into chaos, both sides were fighting to kill. Ron was hit with a dark curse, one that made him scream in agony, his skin turning black with decay. Hermione was badly injured - wounds all over and bleeding dangerously. Kingsley yelled for her to run, and Hermione grabbed Ron, pushing back the few Death Eaters long enough to run out of the boundaries of the wards, apparating away. Ron still died within hours, and Hermione's only comfort was the fact she was there for him.

Hermione shifted, unconsciously rubbing her gloved fingers over her ring, the one Ron had given to her.

They had been so sure they were going to win.

Hermione tightened the bright red scarf around her neck as she casted another extra strong warming charm around herself. Hermione rubbed her gloved hands together, breathing in the cold air. She felt restless, but she knew it wouldn't be long until everything was set into motion. All she had to do was wait.

Hermione missed her friends deeply, after more than a year since Harry died and only a few months since Ron's death. She wanted to scream at Voldemort that the war wasn't over, that the Order was still alive and fighting, but to do that she would have to have an act of defiance. It was a very risky move but at least she would do something. She was tired of hiding away, she wanted to live and show that.

She was most certainly not going without a fight because Hermione Granger had a plan.

The rustling of robes could be heard as one of Voldemort's servants, Fenrir Greyback, stepped forward. The quiet murmur died, his Death Eaters straightening themselves to attention. The man bowed to him before speaking out to report, gesturing with his hands all the while.

"My Lord, the current state of affairs with the Werewolves is in excellent condition and we've managed to take a number of prisoners this week…"

He had heard this before. Voldemort tuned the man out without a second thought. He glanced around the room; his Death Eaters had their heads bowed in deference, some keeping hold of chained prisoners, most of them former Order members about to be sentenced. The pathetic remnants of Dumbledore's group of resistance looked utterly defeated, hope drained from every one of them. They knew better than to even expect they would be allowed to live in this world. A world that he had created himself and he alone would rule it forever.

Yes, Lord Voldemort considered himself immortal again. And rightly so. Not only did he quickly make new Horcruxes, after being deprived of the protections from his destroyed ones, the now tarnished golden trio was defeated as well. Only that Granger girl was alive, planning something, he was sure. The Order had been far too quiet these past few months and Granger would be at the head of the crowd. Who else could it be?

However, information on the whereabouts of the Order and especially where Granger had hidden away had been frustratingly elusive to him.

The boy who was destined to vanquish him was defeated by his own Killing Curse and Weasley was rotting in the ground somewhere. Only Granger's whereabouts were unknown, but he'd find her… It was only a matter of time. And he had nothing but time.

He dug up anything he could find on her. She, a Mudblood, was the only child of two dentists (whom none of his useless servants could find anywhere). Granger had helped Potter out countless times. She was the brain of the so called Gryffindor trio, saving Potter and Weasley more times than they could count. She had been sorted in Gryffindor but many had thought she belonged in Ravenclaw, she was smarter than most of Ravenclaw to begin with from what he heard. It really wasn't much of a surprise that she was the last one standing out of the three Gryffindors. If it wasn't for the fact she was a filthy Mudblood, Voldemort could almost admit that his younger self and she weren't all that different. Still, he would always be superior to her.

The Order of the Phoenix, though, was not really a problem anymore. After all, the entirety of Britain was under his control and he would soon gain the support of the neighbouring countries. Russia would be the easiest, with their strict Magic regulations and laws already leaning heavily towards the Pureblood side. It would only take a bit of politics, if he was careful -

"My lord! I've caught Potter's Mudblood!"

Everything went silent. The captive Order members despaired. Their last hope had been captured.

Voldemort turned, his eyes slightly widening in surprise. He saw a feeble figure being carried by one of his Death Eaters, a new recruit, judging by the man's overexcited movements.

The man hurriedly explained how he found her, putting particular emphasis on the fact he searched for the girl for days on end, "…and the Mudblood cried when I saw her, wea-"

"Put her down." Voldemort snapped, in a tone that left no room for defiance. He casted a stinging hex, making the man squeak.

The limp girl was roughly thrown to the ground with a thump, both robes and hair all askew. He could hear some of his servants laughing at how weak Granger was. With a swish of the Deathstick, Voldemort summoned and pocketed Granger's wand. 10¾ inches, vine wood with a dragon heartstring core, if the research was to be trusted.

The Death Eater, who had brought Granger, shifted nervously, fidgeting with his wand as he waited for the Dark Lord's attention. Then he had the nerve to clear his throat.

"Um, my Lord-" His weak voice was cut off immediately by the harsh glare from Voldemort. The Dark Lord's nerves were growing thin, having to deal with scum like that man far too much, in his own opinion. He could almost see the crestfallen look on the man's face. Was he really expecting a reward for accomplishing an order Voldemort had given months ago?

"Leave. Next time I won't be so kind."

"Yes, my lord, as you wish."

He bowed overdramatically and scurried away, obviously frightened. Voldemort refocused on the girl, lying quite still on the ground. He got up from his throne. Granger was covered by her overly large robes with bits of her bushy hair poking through, a ball of fabric and wild hair. With a flick of his wand he moved the robes out of her face, and paced over to her. Granger's face looked deprived of sleep and rest, her cheeks were rather pink from the biting cold. Of course a mere Mudblood would be helpless against the forces of such weather.

He could kill her where she lay. It would be easy. Too easy, he mused. This was the first time he ever met the brains of the trio, Hermione. To simply kill her before he even heard one word out of her would be quite unsatisfactory.

Hermione couldn't move, being paralysed by a spell, and only saw the Dark Lord loom over her. There was a gathering of dark cloaks behind him, his Death Eaters. She could barely recognize the Order members, taken prisoner, on the cusp of her vision. At least she had an audience to perform for, just as planned, Hermione thought grimly. She was taken with the sudden wish that Ron and Harry were here by her side again, giving her the strength to continue through with this. Hermione could only gather her courage, sending a silent wish for luck as Voldemort raised his wand. She could do this, if nothing else.

He said the counter charm with little thought, focusing on her face for a reaction. Hermione immediately sprang up into a fighting stance, her face twisted into a snarl. The room fell into shocked silence. Hermione knew what they thought. She was supposed to snivel on the floor, begging for mercy, not show any form of defiance. A few of the Death Eaters had warily raised their wands at her, but she knew they wouldn't move for fear of angering Voldemort. Some looked almost impressed. Among the prisoners, Hermione spotted Katie Bell, former Gryffindor and Quidditch player. Katie had always been so full of spirit back in her school days, rallying the team against the opposers. Seeing her here now, caught and chained like a dog, pained Hermione. She almost smiled, though, as Katie, along with the other Order members, now raised her head, caught between confusion, fear and, most importantly, what had to be a glimmer of hope.

Hermione saw Voldemort narrow his eyes and refocused on him. She met his gaze with a steady hand.

Neither person moved.

Voldemort made a sudden slashing motion with his wand, magic heavy in the air. The girl desperately tried to dodge, but Hermione's body was thrown up into the air and a shining orb encased her, lights dancing around her. The ball itself was a faint blue, a wide web of scattered, jarring, lines that strangely took the appearance of lightning. She could see outside with ease, but the lights blocked her view a bit. Hermione took the time to look around the room; it was an intimidatingly huge hall, all cold stone and shadowy corners. She scowled, with her hands pressed against her prison and knees scrunched up.

"Hermione Granger..." Voldemort's mouth twisted into a thin lipped smile. Its appearance looked unnatural on the face of the Dark Lord.

"Did you really think you could evade me forever? You should know better than anyone that I am more powerful than your precious little friends."

Hermione looked away from him and said nothing. He moved smoothly around her, looking at her with a smirk on his face. It was only them, the others fading into the background, like everyone else didn't exist at the moment.

"Tell me, Mudblood, how did you manage to slip through my grasp for so long?"

Hermione's voice quivered, "I evaded you for as long as I could, you monster." She refused to look him in the eyes.

"Your resistance was futile, you silly girl. Potter was doomed to die from the very start, and I'm honestly not all that surprised your Weasel died so quickly at my servants' hand. Then again, it was a miracle that your blood traitor lived for so long. But, it's you who has been so elusive to me. Just how could a dirty Mudblood hide from me for all this time?"

Voldemort could hear jeers and whoops coming from his servants. The girl looked at him then with an odd sort of glint in her eyes. It infuriatingly reminded him of the ever-present twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes.

"Give me back my wand."

Voldemort blinked, caught off guard by her audacity, then he mocked, "I was hoping that the brightest 'witch' would understand that such things do not belong in the hands of filthy animals."

Her eyes were wild, almost as wild as his. To his near surprise she smiled. "This is the first time you've ever met me, isn't it?"

His eyes narrowed into slits. He could see the other prisoners looking far too hopeful; it was not to his liking.

"Do you honestly think you could ever hope to defeat me, Mudblood?" Voldemort snarled at Granger's nerve and unabashed Gryffindor bravery.

Hermione did not disappoint to have a come-back. She was just intriguing enough to make him wonder about her and her utter foolishness in challenging the greatest of all the wizards.

"Yes, I do, Tom."


	2. Chapter 2

**The Royal We**

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Chapter 2

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Hermione could hear gasps and shouts of confusion; indeed, they should question why she had called the Dark Lord that.

She saw Voldemort snarl, for the briefest of moments. "You dare-"

Then he stopped himself abruptly as if he couldn't even be bothered to spew out a threat. He simply dismissed that name, Tom, as if it were nothing more than a tossed away memory. Hermione glanced warily at him. Voldemort had composed himself, cool mask sliding into place. She was taken aback. Why doesn't he care? She briefly pondered this, recalling all the times Harry said Voldemort had flown into a rage just hearing his original first name. So why was he not reacting now? Hermione furrowed her brow, frustrated. Then she saw it. The tiniest twitch dared to tug at the corner of Voldemort's lips. Hermione suppressed a grin. He was not as aloof as he would like to appear, was he? It was an excellent (and manipulative) political move, Hermione had to admit. But, she wasn't fooled.

With a fragile hand Voldemort pointed his wand at her, straight as an arrow. His eyes were full of contempt; a concept not unfamiliar to Hermione.

"You are acting most strange, Granger. I am quite curious as to what brought this on."

He stepped near to her, dissipating the orb in a flash. Hermione once again fell to the ground in an ungraceful way, producing scrapped elbows and bruised knees. She attempted to nurse her injuries while looking at Voldemort. Hermione could see the Order members look on in discomfort.

"Is it really so hard to imagine, that somehow a person can face somebody without fear?"

Hermione's words sounded brave, she knew that and Voldemort did too. Her voice was strong, lacking any tremble of weakness. However, her statement was laced with a lie. She was afraid …afraid of failure. She had always feared failure the most, but now it was no longer that petty fright of getting a 'T' on her homework anymore. Now, she was afraid to fail everybody: Harry, Ron… the Order, every Muggleborn that was still out there, isolated and without hope. With luck and a bit of bravery she'd live if she had anything to say about it, but it was of more importance that the Order understood what she was trying to do here. She desperately hoped they would, as she had failed time and time again to inspire them, to convince them that not all was lost yet. Hermione hoped she might reach them. She wondered what Ron and Harry would tell her to do. Probably to never ever give up, especially to Voldemort. It was a comfort that made her feel less alone; she knew she could somehow live up to their memory, Harry's courage and Ron's loyalty.

"I think we both know that's not true." Voldemort said softly.

Hermione blinked, his sentence uncannily fitted as reply to both her words and thoughts. She threw a piercing glare at him, swallowing, knowing what he'd try next. And that was just what she wanted. Immobilizing her, Voldemort pointed his wand at her. The next word Lord Voldemort said was this,

"Legilimens."

Voldemort pushed through the girl's mind with great ease, tossing aside the useless bits of information from the now dead Potter and Weasley. He found what he's looking for in no time at all.

The girl cut off from the Order.

The Mudblood shivering in the cold…

He could see her take out her wand, letting out red sparks, bright and lit up against the white snow. She turned with a calculated look…

And in the distance he could see a Death Eater approaching her…

The Mudblood ran but didn't even try to apparate. A few spells were exchanged but the fight was easily won by his Death Eater.

The "fight" was too easily won, too planned. His servant shoved the wand in his pocket grabbing the Mudblood who – aside from the beginning – barely resisted.

That was what set him off.

She did it on purpose.

Katie Bell looked on in shock. What was Hermione doing?! What could she ever accomplish with throwing her life away like this? Without her and with half of the Order members killed or imprisoned Katie knew there was no hope left. Katie flinched as Voldermot leglimised Hermione, feeling deep sympathy for the poor girl. It was over almost as soon as it started. Katie was surprised, though, to see Hermione recover so quickly from that monstrous spell. Despite this hopeless situation, Hermione displayed an incredible amount of calmness, , a stark contrast to Voldemort's confusion and perplexed look.

Hermione leaned forward, "I'm here to fight you, Voldemort. I will make everyone see that you are not as invincible as you would like us all to believe."

…What? Katie blinked in surprise. Did that mean Hermione was here for a reason? Did she have a plan, after all? Hermione had to have one. A hint of hope dared to built up in Katie. Hermione was right, wasn't she? Voldemort couldn't be indestructible. He was only a man. A very powerful wizard, maybe, but still only a man. Maybe not all was lost after all. The little seed of hope started to grow.

Katie saw that Hermione's eyes were flitting around as if she was all too acutely aware that Katie and the rest of the Order members were watching her and Voldemort. It was strange. Just seconds ago, Katie had been too afraid to even breathe, surrounded by all those Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. Now, she was taken with the sudden urge to shout encouragements to Hermione.

Katie turned her head, seeing Voldemort. His face twisted from confusion into rage at the realization of Hermione's words. Serves him right! He would deserve whatever Hermione would dish out. Voldemort was unworthy of all that power. And if anyone could stop him right now, it was Hermione.

Katie saw the rage in his eyes, it was an emotion that fit him too well, a furious snarl at the fact Hermione, a Muggleborn, had dared to defy him.[H1] In that moment, Katie was proud-

"Crucio!" The spell slammed into Hermione, crashing her onto the floor. Katie held back a strangled yell, how dare Voldemort do this to Hermione?! Katie knew better than most what it was like to be subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. Such intense pain that many a man had gone insane from it. She could only watch with clenched hands, wishing that something could be done…

Hermione thrashed around on the cold floor, biting her lip with such force it bled. She didn't scream, though. Katie's eyes widened in surprise, the flash of pride coming back to her. Hermione was still strongly resisting.

Ages passed (too long) and finally the curse was lifted. Katie watched in shock as Hermione, looking war torn, shaking and wincing, pushed herself onto her knees and turned to face Voldemort. With that Katie realized that Hermione wasn't going to give up on them. It would take more than the Cruciatus Curse to stop her, no matter what Voldemort thought. Katie heard the murmurs of her friends beside her; they were full of burning anger. The same anger that now also raged through Katie.

"Leave her alone!"

"You won't take her away!"

Katie joined the crowd as well, stepping forward, "Don't give up, Hermione-"

A Death Eater sharply hexed her, violently silencing her words. She brushed it off, it was nothing compared to what Hermione was doing. The Death Eaters couldn't silence them for long.

Hermione spat with a smile, glaring at Voldemort, "T-There! Are you happy now? Is that all you could do to me?"

Voldemort said nothing in reply, merely glancing at Hermione. Of course he did. Hermione was still standing even after he threw the worst curse at her. Nothing would stop her. Katie could see the wild fire burning in her eyes. Hermione if anyone, knew how it was like to feel hopeless, losing Ron and Harry… Still here she was. Fighting. Hermione wouldn't stop until she had had her revenge and everyone was let free. And somehow, even after all her hope had been squashed so brutally, Katie wanted to join her.

Voldemort started speaking once more.

"You foolish child, do you really think that you would ever have the smallest chance of winning against me? You will die here, Hermione Granger, and no-one will ever hear of this pathetic attempt to thwart me."

"You can't silence us!" A voice called out, it had to be a former Order member.

Hermione watched Voldemort reply smilingly, "Do not worry yourself. You, I can easily have killed."

Hermione, did both consciously and half not, curl her left hand into a fist, feeling that Ron's ring was still there. Slowly standing up with great pain and strengthening herself, Hermione pressed on. She met him with a fierce glare; this was her chance to show how wrong he was.

Hermione's eyes left the Dark Lord and slowly travelled over the Order members. Her gaze stopped as she saw Katie Bell. A small encouraging smile hovered around the former Quidditch captain's mouth. Hermione collected herself, taking a deep breath, "People, never forget why we were fighting for! What could possibly harm you? The Unforgivables? Dying at a Death Eater's hand? Is that really worse than living under histwisted rule?"

She rudely pointed at Voldemort, feeling fuller of purpose than ever before.

"Let us take back what is ours. Give yourself the freedom to live!"

Voldemort and his servants had fallen silent. Hermione looked desperately at the prisoners, silently begging them to act. Nobody moved. Nothing happened. Hermione's face fell as she realized the Order wouldn't do anything.

The Death Eaters had started to uproar with laughter.

They called out, "Stupid Mudblood!", "Worthless Bint!", their voices blending in with each other…

She could see Voldemort begin to clap ever so condescendingly, with a mocking smile on his face.

Never had she felt so defeated in her life. She had failed Ron and Harry and everyone… Voldemort just smirked.

"How touching, Granger-"

"Avada Kedavra!" A voice cut through, the noise as clear as day. Hermione caught a flash of bright green just before it hit a cloaked servant. The Death Eater fell to the floor with a final thud .

In his place now stood Katie Bell, clutching a stolen wand, breathing hard with a blazing, angry look on her face.

And Hermione beamed at her.

Then complete chaos broke out.

Forget what people said about revenge being best served cold, it really was sweet to see it in the heat of the moment. Sweeter than most could even imagine.

Yet, there was a vein of terror running through Hermione.

People were running aimlessly, bright spells whizzing by with such force and heat.

The yelling pounded against her head like a growing symphony, witches and wizards were running past and it was impossible to tell who was a part of the Order and who was a Death Eater-


	3. Chapter 3

**The Royal We**

~.~

Chapter 3

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"Come."

Without warning Voldemort grasped Hermione's arm with a fierce tug and with a barely noticeable pop they disapparated.

Unprepared for the apparition, Hermione stumbled slightly, wobbling, but Voldemort kept his iron grip on her, nails indenting her skin. She straightened herself immediately, trying to assess her situation. With a search by her magic she could feel the tangible wards that surrounded the area. An escape was not likely, then. They had ended up in a room with no windows, the only sources of light coming from a dying fire in the fireplace and the flickering candles. The place was finely furnished, with a seating area by the fireplace and the walls dominated by huge shelves and shelves of books. While somewhat poorly lit, the room was still a far cry from the cold, harsh room hall they had left behind. Voldemort glanced at Hermione, giving her a cruel, unforgiving look. Hermione could guess he was displeased of with her nosey staring.

"I suggest you sit down unless you want this to end far more unpleasant for you."

Hermione complied and plopped down in one of the armchairs, never leaving her eyes off of him. Voldemort followed suit and slid into the chair opposite from her, looking as regal as ever. Hermione eyed him warily. Perhaps, if she played her cards right it would end with her alive after all. She could manage, she wasn't known as the brightest witch of her age for nothing. Just as she seated herself in the furnished armchair beside the Dark Lord, Voldemort whispered a spell and the fireplace roared to life, heating the room in no time at all.

"Tea?"

"Yes, please...?" Hermione nodded slowly, trying to grasp the concept of Voldemort eating tea and crumpets.

In no time at all, a House Elf popped in placing a tray of drinks and snacks on the table in the middle of them.

"Refreshments, my Lord." The House Elf bowed so low his ears touched the ground, eyes wide and quivering with fear. Hermione fought the urge to insist that the poor creature was to be set free. Then again it would be futile anyway, and she had other (…more important even?) problems to deal with right now. Hermione could only watch as the poor House Elf disappeared from sight with a pop.

Hermione took a cup of hot tea but she refused to drink from it (no matter how nice a cup of tea sounded to her). She made sure to not even think about the scones lying so tantalizingly within her reach. Without a doubt, Hermione was sure the food was laced with potion. It would be foolish to take the risk. With a sigh, she ignored her stomach pains.

Silence reined as Hermione studied her surroundings, especially the wall entirely stuffed with books. Dark Arts books from the looks of it. Her fingers twitched with a nervous tic, it had been far too long since she last laid a hand on any book. The days of spending her free time lazily reading up on magical subjects in the beautiful Hogwarts library were long gone. It was such a shame that the only ones she could see were books filled with torture advice and various ways on how to cast the Unforgivables, curses that she never had any intention to use (unless it was against the Death Eaters, of which she had no qualms against when it involved a war).

Voldemort apparently took note of her interest in the books.

"Would you like to take a look at them?" he offered, red eyes glinting with interest.

"No. I would not," Hermione replied flatly, with hardness and an edge of boldness in her voice.

"What a shame. You could be missing out on many a great book."

"Could be, is the key word here."

Voldemort laughed, it was an unpleasant sound, dry sounding and an octave too high pitched to be considered natural, sending cold shivers up Hermione's skin.

"You're entirely right. Those books are mere decorations for the passerby, not even worth your time. Lord Voldemort doesn't keep his worthy possessions in such an easily accessible place."

Hermione brushed aside his use of third person, focusing on the information he gave. If this was an easy to reach place, they were probably -

"Don't bother trying to figure out where this room is situated. You'll never guess it, Mudblood," Voldemort interrupted her. Hermione watched as his eyes flickered to the fireplace, looking utterly apathetic about her failed attempt at trying to map this place out.

Her insides burned with righteous fury, both at Voldemort's complete dismissal of her intelligence and his careless use of that term so hurtful to her. Hermione swallowed, recomposing herself. It wouldn't do any good to flip out at the Dark Lord, Hermione thought with anger, looking away from him.

Monsters like him deserved to get their comeuppance.

"…but, I believe we are getting side-tracked." Voldemort's voice trailed off sounding tapered and strangely polite. His red eyes glittered with colliding emotions. There was a hint of interest. Or was it anger? Hermione couldn't tell. It could have been as well amusement, dangerously lurking in those red eyes.

Looking at his figure, cloaked with dark dramatic robes and making a striking contrast against his pure white skin, he exuded power. If Hermione focused she swore she could feel traces of magic in the air, electrifying and real.

"I must say, full grown men have been driven to insanity by my curse yet you resisted, how interesting that you, a Mudblood, could do it." His voice faded away as Voldemort seemed to be considering something.

The insult was clear in his voice but underneath there was a strange compliment hidden away. Hermione narrowed her eyes. He wanted something from her didn't he? He was clearly skirting around her acts that she committed not even ten minutes ago.

Voldemort gazed at her, studying her as if she was a very interesting tome, a book that was a challenge to read and one that was near impossible to decode.

"We never were all that different. In fact it's striking that we are so much alike. I wonder what you would have been like in Slytherin." Voldemort said it clearly, with aim to get under her skin, Hermione knew that.

And it was those words that made Hermione shiver, not entirely because he was wrong.

Hermione focused on the fire, twisting into various shapes, as she considered on what she should do now. She had achieved what she wanted to. The Order members had got her message. The war was not over. Voldemort's imminent victory had been averted. Hermione knew the Order was ready to fight once again. She had known it since she had seen that fire rekindled in Katie's eyes. Now, though, Hermione sat here with Voldemort, not knowing what to do. She hadn't really considered that in her plan, having expected Voldemort to kill her in the end. But the event had passed and she was still alive. Voldemort couldn't kill her now either. Turning her into a martyr was probably the worst move he could make in this situation. He would not risk giving her even more power and fuel the resurrected Order's rage even more. But, the result was that Hermione was now backed into a corner, or rather, there was a stalemate on both sides. She couldn't escape him… for the moment. But, there really wasn't anything to stop him from throwing her into a cell for good. Yet, Hermione had the feeling he was planning something. Perhaps she needed to play along? It was worth a try. With Voldemort having taken hostage of her wand and being in a locked area with him, there was little chance for anything else unless a miracle happened suddenly (which was highly unlikely and she didn't believe in miracles anyway). But first, Hermione had to test the murky waters she was in.

"Why are you interested in me, Voldemort?" She gave Voldemort a blazing look, demanding an answer.

"Why…?" He echoed softly.

Hermione watched, captivated by his smooth movements, as Voldemort elegantly slid out of his seat. Hands folded behind his back, he started to pace, brow furrowed as if deep in thought. Hermione saw his eerily red eyes darting to her from now and then, seeking to detect any source of weakness in her. Too bad, you won't find any. She defiantly raised her chin at him, daring the man to come closer. That only seemed to amuse him.

"It's because you are only a Mudblood, yet worth so much in the minds of your comrades, a symbol of hope. I shall look forward to the day you realize it is futile to resist me, I look forward to the day you toss aside your inner morals and pathetic rules you so tirelessly cling and I will look forward to the day you abandon your old ways. One day you shall address me, with an adoring gaze in your eyes, as your Lord and Master."

Hermione said nothing, but when he turned his back away from her she allowed herself this thought: You won't get to see that day.

The wind howled as the snow blew in all directions; they both watched the fireplace blaze alight, lost in their own thoughts.

_**Fin.**_


End file.
